When I was younger, one of my friends who I will call John to keep his identity secret and another friend Mike went to John’s house to welcome his new puppies to the local community. Obviously John had not birthed these animals, rather it was his own dog a chocolate Labrador who had spawned the new bundles of fur and paws.

We were introduced to the brown fluff balls, John struggling to name all dozen. Almost instantaneously we were on the kitchen floor, playing. Rolling on the cold tiled ground as tiny teeth nibbled my socks, teeny claws scratched my skin, squeaked yelps and barks into my ears. It was, like you may have guess, a pretty enjoyable experience. Continue reading “The Accidental Almost Death of a Puppy”

It was a hot day on the Victoria Line, south bound, between Kings Cross and Stockwell. I had been sitting on the tube for a number of minutes (up to about ten). Hot and bothered, hair crazed, shirt stained and creased, crappy hoody, glasses mildly wonky and most importantly bored. I rarely bring equipment and tools to facilitate my lack of attention span on short journeys. This was my first mistake. If I only knew the floundering encounter that would rock and shake my already heightened anxiety, creating a moment of perpetuating social awkwardness, I would at the very least picked up a Metro. Continue reading “The Tube and Literature Voyeurism”